


sleep, those little slices of death

by shallowheart



Series: ??????????????? [4]
Category: TOMORROW X TOGETHER | TXT (Korea Band)
Genre: Brain Baby, Hurt/Comfort, I don't actually use his name until the end, Just this is, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Off-screen Relationship(s), Off-screen suffering, Physical Exhaustion, Sleep, This is just not good, Yeonjun went through a....thing, and soobin caused it, emotional exhaustion, idk - Freeform, its just a thing I HAD TO MAKE PLEASE, something huh, tired
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:41:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23753263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shallowheart/pseuds/shallowheart
Summary: “I love sleep. My life has the tendency to fall apart when I'm awake, you know?”― Ernest Hemingway____Yeonjun wakes up warm.
Relationships: Choi Soobin & Choi Yeonjun, Choi Soobin/Choi Yeonjun
Series: ??????????????? [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1677568
Comments: 4
Kudos: 44





	sleep, those little slices of death

**Author's Note:**

> Me: So i should probably work on my two ongoing fics huh
> 
> Me:
> 
> Me:
> 
> Me:
> 
> Me: *makes this*

Yeonjun opens his eyes. His sight is bleary and blurry, and he can feel the corners of his eyes crusting over after sleep-

And tears, but that part’s not important. Yeonjun feels the pair of arms wrapped around him, holding him in place as he feels the steady rhythm of the car he’s in moving forward. Yes, that part isn't important anymore.

“Hyung?” a voice asks softly. Yeonjun closes his eyes again, inhales, “Are you up? Go back to sleep, we’re not back yet.”

“Mm,” Yeonjun hums noncommittally, pressing his lips together. The voice laughs slowly, and a hand comes up to card through his hair.

The voice is clearer now, almost recognizable even though Yeonjun’s brain is still half asleep and exhausted from...something. Something harsh, something that had hurt him but fixed him after, “So you don’t want to sleep again?”

Yeonjun grunts, pressing his head back against the hand that’s petting it, but then his face is cold from not laying against a shoulder, and he just decides he’d rather hide back in the warmth than seek it out. He realizes that’s not an answer, distantly, but his muscles feel like flour and his bones feel like wind, and if he moves any more they’re going to mutually destroy each other.

“Okay,” the voice says, “Okay. You must still be tired. I don’t blame you, Yeonjun-hyung, I really don’t.”

Yeonjun just tilts his head, mildly interested, as thoughts start to trickle back into his mind.

“I’m sorry I put you through that,” the voice says, a little thick with emotion. Guilt, maybe. Or something else, Yeonjun considers when the arms pull him tighter against them.

Yeonjun has a feeling he has to say something, a nagging pull in the back of his skull that floods him with a single rush of energy. His tongue is a stone behind leaden lips, but he manages to move it little by little until he can just barely hear his own voice croak out. His throat feels scratchy and rough, and watery stickiness blooms in the corners of his eyes, but he needs to say it.

“‘s okay,” it comes out as more of a yawn with the vague impression of words, rather than proper speech. But they―he, as his sluggish mind helpfully provides now, doesn’t seem to mind, if the way his thumb runs over Yeonjun’s scalp is any indication.

The voice continues, granted a boon by Yeonjun’s response, “You’re so  _ strong _ , Hyung. I don’t deserve you, not after this. But I’m selfish, if you’ll have me.”

Yeonjun feels a whine build up in his throat, because he doesn’t think he can speak again. Not for a while, can’t reassure him until he’s rested and can think more.

“You don’t have to say anything,” the voice says, and Yeonjun would sag in relief if he wasn’t already like a pile of jelly, “But, Hyung...You scared me, back there; I was-”

The voice freezes, inhales, clears his throat. Yeonjun understands. He waits for him to finish, patiently, holding on to the last words he said like a lifeline.

“I thought I’d  _ lose _ you, Yeonjun-hyung,” the voice breaks, and Yeonjun notices that there’s more trembling out of time with the car’s movements. He moves his head, neck feeling like a rusted hinge that’s still giving its best, and breathes against a sharp collarbone.

It’s the closest he can get to an ‘ _ I’m here _ ’, but like everything so far the voice doesn’t seem to care if it’s the minimum or not.

“Sorry, you’re probably still too tired to deal with this, aren’t you?” the voice murmurs hoarsely. Yeonjun wants to say he’s fine, because that same nagging feeling tells him that he has to make sure that he tells him he’s  _ okay _ , but the voice is right. Yeonjun’s head has started swimming just from staying awake.

“Sleep, Hyung. We’ll talk in the morning,” the voice soothes, and Yeonjun feels something bubble up in his chest and up his throat. It’s different from the last time he spoke just now, a lighter kind of feeling, and the words pile up on the tip of his tongue until his jaw drops enough to free them.

“G’night, Soobinie,” Yeonjun breathes, letting the mental grip he has on his consciousness loosen. He sinks back into sleep like he never left.

Soobin says something that he misses, but he’s not worried.

They’ll talk in the morning, Soobin said so. 


End file.
